


with knives (to love you)

by kimaracretak



Category: Nikita (TV 2010)
Genre: Bloodplay, F/F, Knives, Praise Kink, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:48:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28910364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimaracretak/pseuds/kimaracretak
Summary: Knife or sword fighting leads to wounds leads to bloodplay
Relationships: Amanda Collins/Nikita Mears
Comments: 3
Kudos: 7
Collections: Bulletproof 20/21





	with knives (to love you)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thedevilchicken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevilchicken/gifts).



"Again." Amanda pushes her sweat-damp hair out of her face, and Nikita adjusts her grip on her knife, watching as the motion makes the veins in Amanda's wrists stand out stark and bluish red against the pale expanse of her skin. It's safer than watching the way her breasts move with every deep breath she takes, the way her lips wrap around each command.

It's Sunday, and the gym door is locked, and she knows exactly what's waiting for her at the end of the session, if she can focus long enough to earn it.

"Again, Nikita," Amanda snaps. Colour is blooming high on her cheekbones and Nikita can't tell if the words are a command or an invitation but she lunges forward anyway. Too quickly, she knows the second her foot is off the floor, too eager to make up for her previous hesitation, and the force propels her blade too high.

She almost misses it - the way Amanda's arm comes up to block the strike heading for her face, the way the tip of the knife catches on the skin, the vein. There's just the blur of motion reflected in the blade, and suddenly all she can see is the blood welling up from the cut down Amanda's forearm, so, so bright.

"Fuck." Nikita drops the knife, looking around frantically for a towel or her long discarded jacket - anything to stop the bleeding. She's never wounded Amanda, not seriously, even on accident - a stark contrast to every other trainer Division has thrown at her - and she can't even begin to untangle the knot of feelings wrapping themselves around her chest. "I'm - _fuck_ , sorry."

But she can't bring herself to move, not while Amanda's still looking at her, something almost like confusion flickering over her face. The room is silent, apart from the faint, dull sound of blood dripping to the mats.

And then Amanda laughs. "I promised you a reward, didn't I?" She wraps her hand around her arm and Nikita watches, transfixed, as Amanda sinks to her knees, blood still running down between her fingers. It's slow blood, she realises, a shallower cut than she'd thought, and though the edges of Amanda's smile are tight with pain, the arousal in her gaze is unmistakable.

Nikita kicks the knife away and kneels as well, her heartbeat less frantic as the implications of Amanda's words sink in. Her words, and the blazing, hungry pride that she can't stop looking up at Nikita with, and Nikita's never felt more powerful, or more like she's been given a gift.

"You've more than earned this," Amanda says, her voice softening, and the last of Nikita's reluctance ebbs as she shifts closer.

"I warned you," she says, and she can't stop the smile creeping over her lips. "I warned you I'd get you one day."

Amanda smiles, too, dipping her head and sending all the hair that had fallen out of her bun cascading over her face. It catches the harsh fluorescent lights, smooths out into a shining russet where it reflects the blood. "I always knew you would. You did well, Nikita," she says. "And you'll do even better when you graduate."

Nikita bites her lip, drops her gaze to Amanda's bleeding arm, because all at once looking at what she's done is easier than thinking about a future, of bearing Amanda's pride a moment longer. "And now?" She asks. She's never wanted an answer less, or more.

"Touch me," Amanda says, and Nikita does, reaching out to run a finger through the blood dripping down Amanda's arm, to press that bloody finger against Amanda's lips - bold, now, with such approval. She traces the line of Amanda's cheekbone, watches her eyes flutter shut, and for a moment, it's almost soft. For a moment, she almost forgets about the knives.

But, "No," Amanda says, shifting her knees further apart, enough that Nikita can see that she's already soaking through the crotch of her leggings, " _Touch_ me."

And, fingers still bloody, Nikita does. She pushes up the thin fabric of Amanda's workout shirt, admiring the streaks of crimson her hand leaves on the familiar planes of Amanda's stomach, thinks about bending down to map the same paths with her lips. Wanting to stay upright wins out, though, and she settles for wrapping an arm around Amanda's waist and burying her head in the crook of her neck as her other hand dips under the waistband of her leggings.

Amanda sighs, leaning into the touch with unusual eagerness, and even with the awkward angle, Nikita's fingers slip inside her cunt easily. "Like that," Amanda murmurs, the direction easy, familiar, and Nikita complies. Curls against her body and fucks her slow, almost lazily.

If this is what Amanda wants to give her (a gift, a gift), she intends to enjoy it for as long as possible.


End file.
